Sacrifice
by Madame-Gemini
Summary: In the aftermath of planet-wide devastation, a small community struggles to hold on to their way of life, but what Amy discovers makes her wonder whether it's worth preserving.
1. Chapter 1

Madame-Gemini does not own the characters or the Doctor Who universe, everything belongs to the BBC. Madame-Gemini makes no money from this fanfiction.

. . . . .

"Amy? Where did that bottle of Ibuprofen go? I've got this pounding headache."

"Oh, sorry, I used it all up… it's that week."

"Yeah, I know that week, why do you think I have a headache?"

Amy affectionately threw a pillow at Rory's face.

"You know, that's shockingly unhelpful."

Before Amy could fire back the couple heard the Doctor's voice calling to them from the control room.

"Are you two going to stay in bed all morning? We have places to go, civilizations to discover, a whole universe of potential and you two are RUINING IT!"

. . . . .

Amy led the way into the TARDIS control room, skipping down the stairs in her brown cowboy boots and denim shorts. The clip-clop rattled throughout the room, the girl had all the grace of a drunken Shetland pony.

"Alright, Doctor, where are we going today?"

"Actually, I was going to let you decide, Ah! Rory! Decided to join us I see!"

Rory followed Amy down the stairs. "What's this about us deciding where we're going?"

"Well, if I could draw your attention to the control panel, you'll see a big, yellow button. Not just any big, yellow button, no, this big, yellow button triggers a randomizer that generates a random 17 digit number, which then gets plugged into an algorithm I've programmed into the TARDIS guidance system, thus selecting a random set of coordinates and a random time for the TARDIS to materialize. Cool, huh? Rory, you look troubled."

"Sort of… hang on. Isn't the vast majority of space empty? Won't we probably just end up in, well, dark space?"

"Good thinking Rory! But no, I've programmed the TARDIS to lock on to the nearest available habitable planet from the generated coordinates and land there. It's like spinning your finger on a globe and going wherever your finger ends up, unless it ends up in the ocean, in which case you just move it to the nearest coast."

"That is so cool! Letting the fates decide where we go, come on Rory, I want to press it!" Amy gushed. Being on the verge of a new destination always brought out her inner excitable school girl. Rory melted at his wife's enthusiasm.

"Can we at least track down some pain killers first?"

. . . . .

The TARDIS shuddered to a stop. Rory and Amy had pressed the button together, after Rory abashedly swallowed a handful of expired Midol that had been left behind by Donna. His headache was almost completely lifted and he was almost as excited as Amy was to see their new destination. Amy's enthusiasm, however, was unmatchable. She ran to the monitor to look out at where they had landed before being gently shouldered out of the way by the Doctor.

"It looks like an 80% nitrogen, 18% oxygen atmosphere, perfectly breathable but a little lower in oxygen than Earth so don't over-exert yourself. There seems to be a bit more carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide in the air than on Earth as well, which is strange because, well, take a look."

He tilted the monitor so that Amy and Rory could see the image displayed. They had appeared to have landed in the middle of an agrarian community. They could see farms, cattle and in the distance a tree-line.

"Readings would be more consistent with a large city with a significant amount of pollution –"

He stopped short because Amy was already opening the door.

"You said breathable, I'm going to go check it out, you boys can stay and stare at the screen all day if you want."

Rory and The Doctor shot each other a brief look before hurrying after Amy. Outside she was facing the TARDIS, awestruck at the scene behind it. The two men followed her gaze and saw the apparent cause of the polluted atmosphere.

About fifty meters from where the trio stood was a line of hedges, and just beyond were the burned-out ruins of a city large enough to rival New New York.

"Wow," gasped Amy.

"Yeah," agreed Rory.

"Hey you!" called a voice from behind them, "What are you doing in my field? And what's that thing squashing my beans?"

The trio turned around to see a bewildered man running towards them. He looked human enough. He stood at about 5'10" with greying hair. His face was wrinkled; he appeared to be about 55 or 60 years old. They glanced at the TARDIS and sure enough, it had destroyed a small patch of crops.

"Ah, terribly sorry about that! I'm the Doctor and these are my traveling companions Amy and Rory. We seem to have taken a wrong turning would you be so kind as to tell us where we are?"

"You folks ain't from around here." It wasn't a question.

"No, my companions are from Earth and I'm just a traveler. This is my ship," he said motioning to the TARDIS.

"Never seen a ship like that before. Well, come on, I've got a map inside the house, let's see if I can get you folks going in the right…" he trailed off looking past the three visitors towards the hedge at the border of his land. The three companions turned around and saw two extremely out-of-place looking men riding what appeared to be segways headed straight towards them. They were dressed unmistakably like law enforcement officers and had firearms holstered at their waists.

"Well hello there! Let me introduce myself, I'm the Doctor-"

"Who are these people in your field Conrad?" The shorter of the two officers addressed the farmer directly, cutting off The Doctor's statement entirely.

"They say they're travelers and got lost. I was about to bring them inside and see if I can't get them where they're going."

"Now excuse me!" interjected The Doctor indignantly, "I was trying to explain-"

"Well don't forget about the ceremony tonight." Again, the officer cut the Doctor off mid-sentence. "You should bring your friends, if they're going to stay awhile they're going to want to be there, otherwise they'll have to wait an entire year till the next one."

With that, the officer's drove off.

"Ceremony?" inquired Amy. "Some kind of party is it?"

Conrad breathed out a sigh. "Not exactly."

. . . . .

"So, after the Six Years Drought that devastated the land the city descended into chaos. Riots broke out in the streets, street gangs set up road blocks to steal food from passing trucks, thousands began to starve, and only the men with the biggest weapons were unscathed. Eventually the military stepped in, tried to enforce martial law, but people fear starving to death just as much as they fear getting shot so there was no real way to enforce any kind of order against an enemy that was everyone. The bottom line was, there wasn't enough food to feed everyone, and some people were going to end up starving no matter what."

Conrad was driving a wagon, pulled by two sturdy workhorses. Amy was sitting next to him, Rory and The Doctor were in the back with Conrad's three sons. Conrad had insisted on giving the lady the better seat. Rory was attentively listening in on the conversation in the front of the wagon. The Doctor was animatedly conversing with one of the younger sons towards the back of the wagon.

"That sounds awful," breathed Amy, empathic tears welling up in her eyes. "How long ago was this?"

"Oh, about fifty years. I was just a tyke back then, don't remember much, just what my folks told me."

"So that's how the city came to be destroyed? The riots?"

"No. The government saw what was happening, and saw that if left to simmer then eventually the only survivors would be the most lawless, the most brutal, and the most evil. They did what they had to do."

"I don't understand."

"They bombed it themselves, didn't they?" Rory spoke up from the back seat.

"That's right. They secretly evacuated what people they knew would be necessary to keep the world moving, farmers, doctors, military-men. They brought us out here, and then leveled the city. With most of the people dead there was no more fighting over resources, and we were able to rebuild, live off the land, just like the Gods intended."

"But, all those people!" Amy was shaking, whether with sadness or anger she could not know.

"So, coming back to the Ceremony which you've so graciously offered to take us to, what does it have to do with all of this?" The Doctor broke his silence.

"Every year we have a celebration, we thank the Gods for our continued survival, we celebrate that we were chosen to live on, and we pledge our loyalty to those laws that keep us alive."

"And attendance is mandatory I assume." Rory had a habit of asking questions that he already knew the answer to.

. . . . .

"Doctor," Rory hissed when Conrad was attending to his horses, "I get a bad feeling from this whole situation. Perhaps we should just go back to the TARDIS and leave." They had arrived at an amphitheater capable of seating about 600 people.

"Oh Rory, where's your sense of adventure? Not that you need a sense of adventure, we're about to watch a show! I love shows. Little Brian was telling me how much he loves going to the show every year, they have dances and fireworks, everyone loves fireworks, don't you love fireworks?"

"But don't things seem a little off?" Amy joined the conversation. "I mean, they destroyed an entire city of their own people."

"No they didn't. The people in charge fifty years ago did. Most of these people weren't even alive, and those that were certainly weren't making the decisions. It's not their fault that their parents were chosen to survive."

"But this whole mandatory attendance thing, it's strange."

"Throughout most of the history of your own country attendance was mandatory at church every Sunday. It's just a different culture is all. Come along then, we can leave after the show."

"Don't you mean ceremony?" Amy mumbled but followed obediently.

. . . . .

Within the first fifteen minutes of the ceremony Amy and Rory's concerns were wiped away. The spectacle before them was breathtaking. There were dancers, acrobats and even an impressive display of pyrotechnics. Conrad explained from time to time what certain symbols meant, for example, the woman walking unharmed through a lake of fire, which symbolized the deliverance of all present from the fire-bombing of the original city.

A hush fell over the crowd and the trio felt tension rising in the air. It was clear that the grand finale was about to begin. Silently, four military men in dress-uniforms of pitch black walked to the middle of the field. They carried firearms with blades on the end that looked remarkably similar to Earth bayonets. The four men stood facing each other and began to throw their weapons into the air, flipping and catching them with perfectly timed precision, each catch making a synchronized kathunk.

"Wait a second, I recognize this. This looks like the American Military's honor guard routine," whispered Rory. "Watch, any second they're going to bring out a fifth person."

Sure enough, the men paused and stood facing each other as a young girl of about fourteen walked to the middle of the field. The men stood in a circle around her and began to twirl and throw their weapons again, points coming within inches of her head. The trio wanted to applaud, but due to the silence of the rest of the stadium they remained still for fear of somehow tripping up the performers.

As the routine drew to a close the men walked around the girl, stood in a line in front of her, and made one more pass, thrusting their weapons straight at her, stopping just a fraction of an inch from her skin. She did not even blink. The stood for a moment, weapons pointed at her, and then it rang out, splitting the silence.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Four shots. In rapid succession. Three to the chest, one to the head. A military-style assassination.

The girl slumped over.

The ceremony was complete.

. . . . .

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	2. Chapter 2

Conrad's cart pulled up at an unfamiliar farmhouse. About twenty carts were already parked out front and a large group of people were milling around.

"Aren't we going back to your farm?" Amy asked.

"Not tonight. This is the Hollenbrook farm. It was their little girl, Daphne that was sacrificed today. Whenever a family loses someone, we like to rally around them, try to do as much work as we can for them. We're going to help bring in their crops tonight. Amy, why don't you go inside with the women, they could use some help with the cooking and cleaning. Doctor, Rory, you come with me to the barn so we can divvy up the fieldwork."

Amy considered being offended at being sent to do 'womanly work' but decided that now was not the time for Scottish indignation. She pecked Rory on the cheek and walked inside.

. . . . .

Rory, armed with a short sickle, was working his way down a row of wheat. The men had assigned The Doctor to help in the stables but he had ignored them and, gathering a large pile of scrap metal and wood, was fashioning a mechanical thresher. Working smarter was infinitely preferable to working harder he believed. Besides, these people were the remnants of a highly advanced civilization. He was not introducing them to any technology they weren't already aware of.

. . . . .

In the farmhouse, Amy was working a loom with a group of women. The device was easy enough to operate, though the fabric she was making was not as fine and soft as that made by the more experienced ladies. In an adjoining room, the mother and father of the girl had secluded themselves. The cart ride from the ceremony had been utterly silent. Amy and Rory were in stunned silence, and The Doctor often grew silent when witnessing such atrocities. Now, Amy began asking questions of one of the older women.

"So, what was that all about? Why did they kill that girl?"

"She was this year's sacrifice."

"What's that then? Some kind of religious thing?"

"No, she's a sacrifice for us. For the lives of all the other criminals."

"How was she a criminal? She couldn't have been more than 14 years old!"

"She was 16 actually. She got drunk with her friends and they toppled the fence surrounding the Collins ranch, half his cattle escaped. They were able to recover most of them but 2 of them must've found their way back into the old city."

"She was killed for that? That's barbaric."

"No, child, she was selected by lottery. You must understand, our community is so small, we balance on the edge of knife. We live on the only available farm land, the old city covers the rest of the planet, we can't afford losses. We needed a way to keep these petty crimes in check or they could destroy us. The punishment must be frightening enough to deter these acts."

"I don't understand."

"Haven't you been listening, girl? Our community is small; we can't afford to kill able-bodied workers. That's why we have the sacrifice. Every person with a criminal record is put into a drawing, and one year one person is selected. The fear of the drawing is enough to keep most on the straight and narrow. This poor girl may be the youngest sacrifice we've ever had."

"So you kill one person every year?"

"One petty criminal. Murderers, rapists, arsonists, they are all executed on the spot. There can be no second chance for these."

"Why do you agree to live this way? Why don't you fight back? Even one innocent girl dying is too much."

"Fight back? We chose this life to preserve our world. There may be sadness, but it is a small price to pay."

. . . . .

As the sun began to set, the men made their way in from the fields. The Doctor's machine had worked expertly and had managed to complete the work of five men. Even so, the farm was large, and much of the work remained undone. The women brought dinner out to the men and they all settled in front of small campfires. A few jugs of liquor were passed around. Conrad explained that nobody would return home this night, they would sleep in the barn and in the morning make their way back to their own homes.

Amy carried a small pot of stew over to where The Doctor was sitting with Conrad and his family.

"Where's Rory?"

The Doctor looked up in surprise, noticing Rory's absence for the first time. Conrad spoke up.

"That crazy bastard is still out in the wheat field. Can't nobody talk any sense into him. Don't know what got into him."

Amy peered out across the dimly illuminated field and saw a lone worker, barely a pinpoint in the distance, working his way down the rows.

. . . . .

Rory swung his sickle with violent fury, mowing down huge swaths of grain. His face was red with exertion and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. Amy approached with caution, and a canteen full of water.

"Rory, the sun's going down. You should come in and have some dinner." She held the canteen out to her husband. He ignored her outstretched hand and continued working his way down the line of wheat.

"I've got to finish this row. They're not going to have enough time, they're going to need this done. They're going to need to take the time to grieve."

Amy was silent. She'd never seen Rory so impassioned. She moved in behind Rory, avoiding the swinging sickle, and laid her hand on his arm. He lowered the sickle to his side; she could feel him trembling beneath her touch.

"They watched their own daughter die Amy. She was shot, right in front of them. What kind of monsters would do that? No parent should have to watch the death of their own child, not when it can be stopped. I know… I know how that feels."

Amy thought back to that awful day, in Adolf Hitler's office, watching Melody bleeding out from a stomach wound, learning just in that moment who she was.

"We never did get a chance to grieve for our own daughter, you know." Rory said.

"We don't need to grieve for her, she's still alive. Of course I'm sad that we didn't get to raise her, but she grew up into a wonderful woman."

"No she didn't. Amy, you know how regeneration works. She died, and a new woman, with our daughter's memories, showed up. Our daughter died a long time ago, before we ever got the chance to meet her. We never grieved; we never acknowledged it at all. We thought that if we just moved on, focused on building a new relationship with River, maybe it would be ok. But it's not ok."

"Oh Rory. I know. I miss her too. But we can't change the past."

"You're right, but we keep running away from it. Hoping that if we see enough planets, if we go to enough worlds, if we fill our minds with enough wonders, it'll make up for it. But we need to know this right now, nothing will _ever_ make up for it, we will never be able to fill that hole in our lives, and I can't live like this anymore. Amy, I want to go home, with you. We can start over, make a new life for ourselves. Please, come home with me."

Amy wrapped her slender arms around her husband's frame and leaned against him. She was crying now. Rory gathered her into his arms. They stood together, crying together in mutual sorrow.

"Ok. When we get back to the TARDIS, we can ask The Doctor to take us back home."

. . . . .

Rory woke with a start. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He bolted to his feet and looked around for his wife. A letter that had been sitting on his chest fluttered to the floor.

_Rory,_

_I know you want to leave, and we will. But I can't just go without doing something for these people. They shouldn't have to live like this. I need to do something to make a difference before we go. I love you._

_Always,_

_Amy_

_._

_._

_._

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	3. Chapter 3

Amy arrived in town via a stolen horse while the sun was still down. She had also made off with a building map and a small barrel of kerosene. Whatever the old woman said, Amy knew that the people didn't want to live like this. They were just afraid, that's all. She knew if she could just give them a push in the right direction, she could maybe spark a revolution.

It wasn't a ridiculous thought. The Doctor might talk a big game about leaving alien cultures alone and not interfering, but she knew for a fact that he had incited rebellion on many planets before. If he could change the course of history, she had just as much right to do so as well.

She used the light from her phone to check the building map. She knew exactly which building she would target: the armory. The building itself was made of stone, but the interior should be lined with wood, and if she could get a big enough blaze going then the gunpowder from the weapons should take care of the rest. She dismounted from her horse, and rechecked her inventory. She needed remarkably few things to carry out her plan. The sonic screwdriver, taken from the pocket of the sleeping Time Lord, kerosene, matches. She had considered going for the psychic paper, but she didn't want to push her luck and risk waking The Doctor.

The Armory building was tucked away on a back street. It was relatively innocuous looking, with two guards posted in front. Amy circled around back, there was a heavy iron door, unguarded, but locked from the inside with no handle visible from the outside. She pointed the sonic screwdriver at the part of the door where the tumblers would likely be. She heard the click that told her the door would swing open freely now, and she dug her nails into the tiny gap between door and wall, and tugged it open.

. . . . .

"Doctor! Get up, Amy's gone." Rory frantically shook the Doctor awake. "She left this," he said holding out her letter.

The Doctor scanned the letter quickly.

"What on Earth does _your wife_ think she's doing? Is she trying to get herself killed? And what do you mean you want to leave? Wait, no, not important, well, sort of important, but not right now. OK, we need to figure out where she went and why, and we probably need to save her, wait! Call her phone."

"Good idea." Rory fumbled for his own phone and rang Amy's number. "It's straight to voicemail, she must have turned it off or disabled it."

The Doctor made an exasperated sound. "OK, we can find her, no problem, but we need to get to the TARDIS, we can lock on to her time stream and it should pull us right to her."

"Last time we did that in Apalapachia it went all wrong and we didn't get to her for almost forty years."

"Look, I don't have time to explain right now, but Apalapachia's time was all wibbly, the time here is standard linear, we won't have the same problem as before. CONRAD! We need to get back to your farm and we need to do it NOW."

. . . . .

Amy crept around the boxes. The building looked deserted, which is what she has hoping for. She didn't want to accidentally hurt someone, she wanted to blow up the weapons, not any people. She opened up one crate and peered inside, it was full of rifles. No good, these wouldn't be loaded while in storage, meaning no gunpowder. She moved on to the next crate, walkie talkies. Even worse. The third crate, however, was the motherload, grenades.

"Why do they even NEED grenades?" she muttered to herself.

She reached into her backpack, pulled out the barrel of kerosene, and splashed some onto the crate before pouring the rest into a line leading back out the door. She was going to have to light the kerosene trail, and then run like hell. She hoped the stone walls would protect the two guards out front, but she wasn't going to be anywhere near the explosion when it happened.

. . . . .

Fortunately the Hollenbrook farm was only 8 kilometers away from Conrad's farm and the TARDIS. Conrad's own horses were workhorses, sturdy but not very fast, so he called in a favor from a friend to borrow his two fastest stallions.

"I've grown rather fond of that girl. Her heart's in the right place, she just aint thinking right. You go stop her from doing something stupid."

With that, Rory spurred his horse forward, galloping at breakneck speed. He was infinitely grateful for his time spent as a Roman, he had been rather good on horseback. Those skills were coming back to him, now, in his moment of need. The Doctor, also very experienced on horseback, followed closely after.

When they reached the TARDIS Rory went and immediately flung open a trunk and retrieved his old centurion sword. Wherever Amy was, she was probably in trouble, and he wasn't about to show up unprepared. The Doctor ran to the control panel and began punching in instructions to find Amy's time stream.

. . . . .

Amy stood in the doorway, matches in hand. She lit one, smelling the acrid phosphor. She looked at the kerosene trail on the floor.

"Oh God, I can't do it." She knew she couldn't risk killing those two guards out front, she would never forgive herself. She lifted the match to her lips and was about to blow it out.

"Don't move an inch," threatened a voice behind her. She felt the muzzle of a gun pressed into the small of her back. In her alarm she dropped the match.

The flame kicked up for an instant, but the guard ran in front of the trail and kicked it out. He turned to Amy, gun pointed at her.

"That's it, I hereby condemn you for arson. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

. . . . .

"I've got her, she's downtown, looks like she's in, or near, the jail. Whatever she was doing it looks like she got caught, which is exciting really, this should be fun after all."

Rory wanted to punch the Doctor for acting so flippantly while his wife was in danger, but decided against it. The Doctor was probably right, they'd go in, probably fight some people, get Amy, and escape. In retrospect it probably would be exciting.

The TARDIS landed in the middle of the prison courtyard. Rory was running out the door when it had barely even materialized, sword in hand, with the Doctor right behind him.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Four shots rang out.

Rory froze in his tracks.

In the middle of the courtyard, a figure with flaming red hair fell to the ground.

. . . . .

Four shots, ringing out, entered the residual tear in the time vortex made by the materializing TARDIS.

. . . . .

"Amy!" Rory screamed, running towards the fallen figure. His sword clattered to the ground behind him.

The guards looked up in alarm and instinctively raised their weapons.

"That's my wife! Get away from her!"

The men were unsure for a moment, but seeing how the man running towards them had dropped his sword, they decided it would be best to let him approach the body. Family had privileges after all.

The Doctor approached more cautiously. He didn't see clearly what had happened. All he could tell was that _someone_ had just been shot. He wanted every second of plausible deniability he could have. If he saw Amy, lying there in the dirt, he'd know it was her. He'd have to face that awful fact, and he would have to face it eventually. For now, however, he would walk as slowly as he could.

. . . . .

Four shots, ringing out, travelled through the time vortex, faster than the sound they were composed of.

. . . . .

Rory reached the body, lying crumpled and bleeding. She was facedown and the exit wound from the bullet had turned the back of her head into an irreparable mess. He gingerly turned her over, peering into her face.

Entry wounds are never as messy as exit wounds. She had just a small, charred hole in her forehead, barely bleeding. Her eyes were still open. Green, and familiar. Her lips, still petal-pink, were parted in an expression of surprise. Amy.

Rory clutched her tiny, broken body. He was openly weeping, frantic sobs were racking his body. The Doctor approached the scene and was reminded of holding his own daughter in his arms while she died.

"Do something Doctor! Save her, you've done it before, she's died BEFORE, you saved her then, BRING HER BACK!"

The Doctor pulled a medical scanner from his pocket and ran it over Amy's body.

"Rory, she's gone. There's nothing I can do. She never died before, she was still mostly alive, she's really dead now."

"No, I don't accept that. I was brought back, you were brought back, so many people have died and come back. Why not her?" Rory was shouting now.

"I never brought you back, and I didn't bring myself back either, she did. I can't save her. Rory, if I could, do you think for one second that…"

The Doctor trailed off. Something was happening that he didn't understand.

"Rory, her hand."

Rory followed The Doctor's gaze. Amy's wedding ring was glowing with yellow time energy.

"Doctor, what's happening?"

Rory pulled Amy's hand closer and gazed intently into the ring. Suddenly, a beam of light exploded in Rory's eyes, filling him with energy.

Rory screamed, tried to pull away, his entire body was on fire now. The Doctor began backing away, and the guards raised their weapons, pointing at the spectacle before them.

Rory's body filled to the brim with light and energy, and a wave exploded out from him, knocking the guards unconscious, and flinging The Doctor to the ground. And then it was over. Rory knelt still, in the dirt and pooled blood.

. . . . .

Four shots, infused with sorrow and loss, moving through the time vortex, made their way towards an infinite point in the distance.

. . . . .

The Doctor felt a familiar presence. He didn't know how it was possible, but he should know better than to discount the impossible by now.

"Rory?"

"You. You've finally taken everything from me haven't you? I didn't even know who you were, and you found me anyway. I didn't even know who I was, but you still destroyed EVERYTHING."

"No, no this isn't true. Rory Williams! Rory the Roman! Rory, Mister Pond, you're Rory!"

"Rory, he's still in here." Rory kissed Amy's forehead and gently laid her back on the ground before rising to his feet. "You'd be better off if he wasn't."

"But how could you have survived?"

"The silence, Doctor. They pulled me out of the Time Lock, imprisoned my Gallifreyan form inside the very same white point star diamond that broke through the Lock before, and they sent me to Earth, to marry Amy and to father River, you didn't think that a Time Lord could be made just by conceiving in the TARDIS did you? You're a fool. And I was their failsafe, because now, Doctor, I'm back. I'm the Master, and you just killed my wife."

. . . . .

Four shots, infused with sorrow, loss, and a burning hatred for The Doctor, made their way out of the Time Vortex, through the untempered schism, and deep into the psyche of a small boy, standing in front of the tear, for the first time.

. . . . .

"I didn't kill her Rory, I tried to SAVE HER!"

"You killed her. With every planet you took us to, every situation you dropped us in, you knew eventually that we'd end up dead. You put her in danger, deliberately, because you get off on having an audience stand in awe at your genius. You would rather let people die, than not have your loyal band of followers."

The Doctor was silent. Rory moved around to where he had dropped his sword.

"I always thought killing you would make me happy, even if I didn't understand why. But I want you to know, Doctor, that even when you're gone, I'll never be happy. Nor will my daughter, nor will my wife. You've killed us all, and how many others. I wish I could make you live with yourself, with the guilt, but you just get over things so easily. So this, it really is all I can do."

Rory lunged at the unarmed Doctor. His skill as both an expert fencer from his life as the Master, and his skill as a Roman Centurion, made him a terrible and deadly foe. His emotions, however, made him sloppy. His vision blurry from tears. The Doctor dodged his swing and, in a moment of pure reflex, threw him away from him. Rory stumbled backwards, tripped over one of the unconscious guards, and landed directly on his bayonet blade that had bent in the explosion of time energy and was sticking straight into the air.

Rory gasped. The blade had gone straight though his sternum. His lungs were filling with blood. The Doctor ran to him.

"No, no no. Rory, RORY! Please don't, Rory, MASTER! Regenerate, do something!"

Rory sputtered, looked over at Amy's body growing cold.

"I'm Rory," he coughed, and was still.

. . . . .

The Doctor dug the grave himself. Leadworth, where they had met, and fallen in love. He dug one hole for both of them, laid them in each others arms, and covered them over with dirt. On the stone he erected he had carved the inscription:

_Amy and Rory _

_They Waited_

He had one more stop to make.


	4. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

At a pleasant house, with a blue door, a woman with very curly hair was walking up the steps to visit her parents. She rang the doorbell, and was surprised to be greeted by her husband.

"Sweetie? Lovely to see you here! What a nice surprise!"

She leaned in to kiss him but was instead gathered into a deep hug. She smelled like waterfalls and gunpowder and, God help him, he knew she would forgive him. He knew that she would still love him, give her life for him even. Perhaps that was the worst punishment of all.

"River, come inside. I have to tell you something."

FIN

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This is the very first fanfiction Madame-Gemini has ever written. Your opinion means a lot, especially to know if more stories should be attempted. Please leave a review, include any questions or comments that you may have.


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